


Conclusions

by talithan



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2011-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talithan/pseuds/talithan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes time for things to conclude, even after it's ended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conclusions

**Author's Note:**

> Written as the conclusion of a 30 Days of QaF meme on Tumblr. For when the ending of the show doesn't quite satisfy.

It takes less Brian than a week to queen out and start firing people. Cynthia follows in his wake, assuring each employee that they don’t need to pack their things and advising them to keep quiet and avoid eye contact while Mr. Kinney gets everything out of his system. Ted, well-versed in Brian’s moods, is already keeping quiet and avoiding eye contact.

He isn’t sure what happened, exactly. All he knows is that they exchanged bizarrely happy smiles as they announced they weren’t getting married, then Justin moved to another state, and now Brian is yelling at employees for writing good copy. 

  
“So how’s Justin liking New York?” Michael asks, grinning.

Ted almost chokes on his sandwich. At least Brian can’t fire anyone at the diner. He might try, though. 

“Having the time of his life, I’m sure,” Brian says at last.

“You haven’t talked to him?”

Brian shrugs and doesn’t say anything. 

  
That afternoon, Ted edges into Brian’s office, where he’s been since they got back from lunch. Cynthia sent Ted in to check on him; he hasn’t picked up the phone or responded to any emails all afternoon. Now, Ted sees that he’s slouched in front of the computer with his eyes closed. 

Ted opens his mouth, “Everything all right, Bri?” on the tip of his tongue, but then he hears what Brian is listening to. 

“…and I just really wanted to hear your voice. I’ll try your cell next, but you never answer it. Um, I guess I’ll just… I miss you. I just woke up and I didn’t want to get out of bed because somehow once I do that it’s more real, or something. So I checked the clock and thought I might catch you before you left for work, but I didn’t, so I left you that message, a happy one, and now I guess I’m leaving you an honest one. This sucks, Brian. I haven’t changed my mind and I’m not going to, but I would be lying if I claimed I didn’t wish you’d…I don’t know. We could have…but you’ll never make me do anything, no matter how much you want me to. So now I’m in New York fucking City, lying awake at 7:45 in the morning, too wired to go back to sleep but too drained to get out of bed, and I’m staring at the painting, and you aren’t here. Fuck, I must sound whiny. I’m sor—thank you. It was a nice email. I don’t know what order you’re going to hear these in, so this might not make any sense, but…I love you. And…I can wait as long as you need.”

Brian presses a button, his eyes still closed, and it starts over.

“Are you driving there? I’m just staring at the painting now. I think it _is_  finished. It looks different now that the sun’s up but I think I like it. Um, I’ll send you a picture of it so you can tell me what you think.” A sigh. “Brian, I can only reread emails so many times. You didn’t pick up at the loft and I just really wanted to hear your voice.”

Ted considers walking forward, making his steps as loud as possible, and pretending he just came in, but he can’t make himself do it. 

He wonders how many times Brian has listened to it so far. How many times he listened to the one on his machine at home before he arrived at the office at nine this morning. How many more times he’ll listen to them both before picking up the phone and calling Justin back. 

–

It takes Lindsay six months to say it. 

“I wish we hadn’t come here.” 

Justin stops pacing, standing frozen with the phone to his ear. 

“Oh, god, Justin, I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry. That’s the first—I’ve never said it out loud.”

“Linds, are you—are you…” He doesn’t know how to finish that. Are you sure? Are you all right? Are you as alone as I am? (Of course she isn’t. She has Mel, she has the kids.)

“Please don’t say anything to Mel. She wouldn’t, I mean, she doesn’t—it’s not her…” She clears her throat. “We’re going to be okay. I’m just having a hard time adjusting. I thought it would get easier, but it’s been months and we still aren’t—I’m still not… Sometimes, when I’m in the kitchen, I reach for a plate and I find the mugs, or I go to grab a pan and wind up with a salad bowl. Nothing’s where it’s supposed to be. It’s all…backwards.” She sounds like she might be crying. “Will it ever feel like home, do you think?”

“Of course it will,” he says, hoping his voice sounds soothing. “You lived in that house for years, Linds. Of course it will take some time to get used to somewhere new.”

He knows that isn’t it. Prop 14 didn’t pass, thanks to the overwhelming negative sentiment generated by the bombing and its aftermath. Back in Pittsburgh, Michael and Ben can proudly say that their legally adopted  _son_  is now a senior in high school. Ted and Blake have moved in together and are planning on making things official soon with a domestic partnership. Lindsay and Melanie could have stayed right where they were, and Lindsay knows it. 

“Are you used to New York yet?”

He has to think about it. “Yes,” he decides. “But I’ve moved so much, you know. I lived at Daphne’s, I lived in LA, I lived with Brian, I lived on my own. I adapt quickly.” He still doesn’t have any friends here. He still calls his mom, Daphne, Deb, Emmett, and Mel and Linds at least once a week, Brian almost daily. He still wakes up some mornings wanting nothing more than to hop on the first flight back to the Pitts. “You’ll get there, I promise.” 

Neither of them says anything for a while. Justin stays on the line, listening to Lindsay’s breathing. He hopes she isn’t crying. He’d want to tell her to just go home already if he was sure she was crying. 

“Do you want to talk to Justin?” Lindsay says suddenly. Then, into the phone, she adds, “Mel’s home. You should say hi.”

He lets her hand the phone to Melanie. 

They never talk about it again. 

–

It takes Drew over a year to come back, and Emmett another five weeks to tell anyone about it.

“It’s not because anyone’s back in the closet,” he says with a smile and a head tilt.

Ted takes a sip of his Perrier. “Given how many guys he’s fucked since you broke up, convincing the press he’s straight would be quite a feat.”

“He had to get that out of his system. And think about it—it only took him a year. Over fifteen years of fantastic fucks and I’m only barely ready to settle down. It’s admirable, really.”

He has that silly smile he gets when he talks about whichever guy is currently The One, and he looks so happy that, as usual, Ted doesn’t want to burst his bubble. He lets Emmett talk about how much Drew has changed and grown and matured, and how the sex is even better than before now that Drew’s had some time to experiment and try new things, and how great it is when they cuddle after because it took so long for Drew to do that in the beginning and now it happens all the time. Ted finds himself wishing he could drink something a little stronger than mineral water.

“So the other night, he’s rimming me, and—”

If Brian hadn’t come up and tossed his arm over Emmett’s shoulders right then, Ted probably would have stood up and walked right out of Woody’s.

“Nobody told me the girls were having a night out.” He smiles facetiously at both of them.

It’s been a while since they’ve gone out. ‘They’ being Ted, Blake, Michael, Ben, and for the past five weeks, even Emmett. Ted hasn’t been to Babylon since the reopening, and he meets up with people at cafes more often than at bars. Brian is probably genuinely surprised to see them, but he would never admit it.

“Teddy just met me here so I could tell him the wonderful news.” Emmett flashes that silly smile again. “Drew and I are back together.”

“That’s not _news_ ,” Brian says. “It’s been, what, a month?”

“Five weeks,” Emmett says. “How—”

“Saw you at Il Fornaio.” He pauses. “Justin wanted to say hi, but you seemed like you wanted to be alone.”

“When was Justin in town?” Ted asks.

“A month ago? I don’t remember seeing—”

“It was just for a weekend,” Brian says tightly, clearly wishing he hadn’t said anything. As he purposefully looks away from Emmett’s curious gaze, he makes eye contact with a guy by the bathroom. The guy gives him that fuck-me-now look, but Brian shakes his head and looks back at Ted, then at the table. “I need a drink.”

“Actually,” Emmett says carefully, “Teddy and I were just wrapping up. See, I have plans with Drew, and he’s meeting Blake for dinner at seven.”

“Date night,” Ted adds.

Brian shrugs and walks toward the bar without another word.

Emmett stares after him, then suddenly turns to Ted with wide eyes. “Oh my god, Teddy. Their anniversary. Or…not-anniversary. A year after they didn’t get married.”

Ted counts back. It’s true. One year and one month ago, Brian and Justin didn’t get married. Two weeks later, Justin was in New York. Two weeks after that, Brian was too, at least for the weekend.

He glances back at the bar, at Brian, as he and Emmett leave. Brian is shaking his head at another guy, and Ted is reminded of the time after Michael’s 30th birthday when Brian was too busy being lonely and miserable to fuck anything (and Ted reaped all the benefits). This time it’s different. This time, Brian didn’t do something terrible to bring this upon himself. He just stood still while the world kept spinning around him.

–

It takes Justin three and a half years to decide. 

It happens over a plate of garlic fries he’s sharing with Hunter and Deb. He doesn’t see Hunter all that often, even though they’re in the same city now that he’s transferred to NYU after two years at the Community College of Allegheny County, but Deb insisted on seeing both of her boys on her first night in the city. They’ll probably trade off for the rest of her five-day visit. 

“So how’s the city treating you, baby?” 

Hunter shrugs. “It’s cool, I guess. But mostly I’ve been studying, or at work.” 

“Meet any nice girls?” 

Justin always thought that Deb was way too interested in all the gay sex her son and his friends were having, but now he knows that she just wants all of her loved ones to get laid. Often. 

He shrugs again. “One of the other baristas seems like she likes me. I dunno.” 

Debbie narrows her eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell me anything, even after I came all this way just to see you.” 

Hunter opens his mouth, clearly intending to correct her—“And Justin’s opening is just a happy coincidence?”—but closes it at the look on Deb’s face. “I’d tell you stories if I had any.” 

Justin knows he means, ‘I’d tell you stories if I had any appropriate for my pseudo-grandmother.’ 

Deb turns to him. “I guess it’s all on you, Sunshine. How’s life? Still tricking, or getting by on phone sex?” 

“ _Deb_.” 

She laughs. “Tell me about your show.” 

“It’s a series on solitude.” Hunter pretends to gag. “Challenging the meaning of solitude, I guess. I think I’ll wait until you’ve seen it to say more.” She’ll probably just say he’s “fuckin’ brilliant,” the same way she does whenever she sees his work in any capacity, but it’s nice that she came out for this one. Brian and his mom are both flying in the day of, but Deb’s decided to make a real visit out of it. Or rather, Brian decided, bought her plane tickets and reserved the hotel room, and sent her on her way. 

“Solitude, huh?” She studies his face. “Feeling lonely, Sunshine?” 

No, he wants to say. And yes. Solitude has always been a part of his art. He’s never been a big fan of people, and moving to New York City only brought that out further. It may seem contradictory, but there’s no better place to feel completely alone than a city this populated. For the first year or so, he painted sex. Angry sex, heated sex, gentle sex, reunion sex. A lot of reunion sex. There’s less of that now. Now he paints waking up alone, eating alone, walking alone. The time between the sex. Always alone, but never lonely. He probably couldn’t say it so Deb would understand. He hopes he was able to paint it so she could. 

“I’m fine, Deb.” 

“But are you happy?” 

He glances at Hunter, weirdly uncomfortable about this in front of him. If he were happy he would easily say so, but he isn’t happy, and he’s known that for a long time.

“He isn’t either, honey,” Deb says quietly when he doesn’t answer. Hunter keeps his eyes on the plate between them and says nothing.

And that’s it. He decides. 

  
He calls Brian from the lobby of Deb’s hotel after he walks her back.

“I’m done with this,” he starts.

“Send me a picture.” 

“Not a painting, Brian. I’m done with _this_. All of this. Not waking up next to you every day. Not being able to see your face while we have this conversation. So we didn’t get married. So we don’t _need_ to get married. That doesn’t mean we can’t be together at all.” 

He can’t see it, but he knows exactly what Brian’s face looks like right now. He can see his lips roll in, his eyebrows knit together. 

“I’m going to be there in two days, Sunshine. You can’t wait two days?” 

“I’ve been waiting for three-and-a—for eight years, Brian. I can wait two days. But after those two days, I don’t want to wait again. Can we just _do_ this? Not because we think we have to, not because we’re scared. Because we want to. Because we’re ready. Can we?” 

  
It will take Brian twenty-three seconds to answer.

Justin will wait.


End file.
